Waking Nightmares (17 page)
Authors: Christopher Golden
“Not even for long, apparently,” Keomany said. Octavian took that in, nodded gravely, and kept driving. Keomany wished she had his confidence. She had endured horrifying things, encountered demons and vampires and had her hometown destroyed, most of the people she had known her entire life murdered. The darkest time of her life, and yet it had also given her the greatest gift she had ever received—a full understanding of her capacity as an earthwitch. Somehow she had found a courage within herself during that time that had endured, but that did not mean she was not afraid now.
The chaos swirling through Hawthorne made her so uneasy that she felt ill. The thought of it springing from some enemy, some ancient evil driven from the world centuries ago but now returned, terrified her. Yet Gaea had faith in her, and so did Octavian. He had lived so much longer than she had, so many lifetimes, in so many guises, and faced so many horrors, that he marched in without fear. He had been to Hell and back, literally. Someone had to step in and do something about order unraveling in Hawthorne, and if it was just the two of them, Octavian did not mind. A part of him must be afraid—only a fool would not have been—but he refused to be hindered by it. Keomany took inspiration from that, and from Gaea. This town had become a wound in the heart of the world, and she had to help heal it.
As Octavian turned up the street that went through the center of town, Keomany surveyed the façades of stores and inns and bars. They passed a lawyer’s office and a proud old stone bank building and the office of the
Hawthorne Letter
, which she assumed was the local newspaper. An empty storefront had once been a video store, a relic of the past. Another had been converted into a campaign office for someone named Castiglione, who was running for mayor. She had seen a smattering of political signs as they drove in.
Hawthorne Letter
, which she assumed was the local newspaper. An empty storefront had once been a video store, a relic of the past. Another had been converted into a campaign office for someone named Castiglione, who was running for mayor. She had seen a smattering of political signs as they drove in.
The dashboard clock read 11:39 P.M. Thanks to the storm and the lateness of the hour the street was largely deserted, save for people exiting bars and hurrying for their cars. They drove by a two-story post office building and something caught her eye, movement on the roof. Keomany turned to look over her shoulder just in time to see a dark figure dart out of sight. She craned her neck, looking up at the roofs of the other buildings they passed.
“What are you looking for?” Octavian asked.
“Not sure.”
But she kept scanning. Movement overhead made her crane farther and she saw something diving through the clouds above, emerging long enough to be momentarily silhouetted against the storm by the lights of Hawthorne and then lost in the morass again.
“There’s something up there,” she said.
Octavian bent over the steering wheel, trying to peer up into the clouds.
“I don’t see anything,” he said after a moment, his eyes gleaming in the glow of the dash.
“You’re driving. Trust me,” she said.
“I do. Want me to pull over?”
Keomany considered it, but they were both soaked to the skin from standing out on the beach in the rain.
“Let’s keep driving. Go slowly. Maybe we can follow one of them. We need to figure out what they are, and that’s more your area than it is mine. I know elemental magic. You’re more intimate with demons.”
Octavian hesitated a second, bending over the steering wheel to look up at the sky again. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Bad word choice, maybe,” Keomany said.
“I forgive you. Find me something to catch. Something I can get answers from.”
As Octavian slowed the car, she peered out the window again, searching for some sign of the black things that were lurking in the storm that had come to Hawthorne. Half a block later, as they neared the park at the center of town where City Hall and the old white church faced one another like opposing armies, she spotted another of the things. It clung to the brick exterior of an apartment building that had an ice cream shop on the first floor. Like some kind of skeletal salamander, it stuck to the bricks, looking down upon the people who were coming out of a trendy Thai restaurant, having drunk their way to last call at the bar inside. Umbrellas blossomed from their hands, buying them a few moments to exchange farewells.
“You’d better stop after all,” she said.
Octavian pulled the car to the curb by a parking meter. Keomany got out quickly and turned to get a better look at the dark shape clinging to the building, but it had vanished.
“What’ve you got?” Octavian asked, shutting his door and clicking his key ring so that the lock chirped.
Frustrated, Keomany moved into the street, searching to see if the thing had moved. What did she have? Nothing but soaking-wet clothes. The rain felt strangely warm, which was unnerving, and her clothes were sticking to her in uncomfortable places.
“Come on,” she said to herself. “Where did you go?”
A burst of laughter drew her attention back to the group of revelers saying good night in front of the Thai restaurant. She looked over, pushing her wet hair out of her eyes, and watched a blond woman huddled arm in arm beneath an umbrella with an older black man. The couple made their way along the sidewalk to a silver Jaguar. The man took out his keys and the car beeped, lights flashing as it unlocked. He went to open the door for his companion.
“Kem, what did you see?” Octavian prodded her. “We’re getting soaked out here.”
Keomany was about to look away when the man went down hard. His wife let out a squeal of alarm even as he shouted, cursing, and Keomany heard the question in his tone. She took a single step in their direction before the man started to scream. His wife shrieked his name as he reached for her, his arms flailing as something dragged him underneath the Jaguar.
Octavian bolted past her, running for the car. Keomany raced after him, the only sound now the screaming of the blond woman and the wet clap of their heels on the sidewalk. The others who’d come out of the Thai place with them were calling, hurrying toward the Jaguar as well, but Octavian got there first.
“What is it?” the blonde cried, turning to Octavian even as she backed away from the car. She made no effort to help her husband, shying as far from the car as conscience would allow. “Help him, please!”
Octavian threw himself onto the sidewalk, reaching beneath the car.
“Roland!” the blond screamed. “Roland!”
Keomany reached the driver’s side of the Jaguar and followed Octavian’s lead. She went down on her knees first, then forced herself to ignore the rain-slick pavement and the puddle beneath her, going down on her belly and peering into the darkness under the car, calling for Roland.
A hand thrust out from beneath the car and Keomany grabbed for it, in time only to catch a handful of Roland’s jacket sleeve. He jerked back and forth, hard enough to drag her several inches, her own hand tugged under the car.
“Something’s under there with him!” Octavian snapped.
Now she saw it moving, a shadow thing made of coalblack ribbons.
“Keomany, get back,” Octavian said. “I’m moving the car.”
Just before she released Roland’s sleeve, Keomany felt the man go still. The only movement was a twitching from the ministrations of the thing under there with him. Something slashed out from beneath the car, black and gleaming, and cut through her wrist. She pulled away and staggered to her feet in time to see Octavian stand, clawing at the air with his fingers contorted, a golden light crackling around his hands in spheres of magic.
“Out of the way!” Octavian shouted at her.
Only then did she realize that he didn’t intend to lift the car.
Keomany jumped aside, cradling her arm against her. There was no cut, but her hand felt numb and swollen, though it looked completely normal. As she stared at it, she saw a black figure, a wraithlike oily smoke, slip from beneath the car and dart up into the stormy sky, clutching a squirming blob of soft, colorful light in its hands. The people who’d been with Roland in the restaurant saw it, too, pointing and muttering and wondering.
Octavian thrust out his hands and a blast of golden-red light slammed into the Jaguar, blowing it across the street, where it rolled onto its roof and crashed into a parked SUV. Car alarms wailed, but the others in the street were silenced, staring at Octavian in awe. All save for the blond woman, who ran to her husband and knelt by him on the wet pavement. She did not touch him, though. Only stared.
For a few seconds, Keomany only stared as well. Then she went to join Octavian on the sidewalk. No one rushed to checked Roland’s pulse; there was no point. What remained of the powerfully built man was a withered husk, as though he had been dead for months.
“What happened to him?” one of Roland’s friends demanded.
Octavian shot him a regretful look. “I don’t know. But we’re going to find out.”
The blond woman, Roland’s wife, looked up at Keomany and Octavian with an expression of such sorrow that Keomany could not meet her eyes.
“How did you do that? What are
you
?” she asked.
you
?” she asked.
“Just people,” Keomany told her, wondering what the thing had done to Roland, and what it had done to her hand. “People who want to help.”
OCTAVIAN
took Keomany’s arm and hurried her into the shelter of a dress boutique’s awning, a couple of stores away.
took Keomany’s arm and hurried her into the shelter of a dress boutique’s awning, a couple of stores away.
“What exactly did you see?” he said, examining her hand and keeping his voice low enough that they would never hear him over the wind and rain. “What are we dealing with?”
The wail of a police siren filled the air. Blue lights danced off the downtown façades as a patrol car came skidding around a corner. Someone had called 911.
“Some kind of specter? I don’t know,” she said. “I saw something on a roof, and then another in the air. I told you to pull over because I saw one sticking to the side of a building. I think it’s the one that got that guy.”
She gestured toward the dead man, whose wife still knelt, weeping and bereft, at his side. The police car stopped and two cops climbed out and started toward her, both of them looking around warily, one with his hand on his service weapon. They looked skittish, like this wasn’t the first crisis they’d encountered today. Octavian figured they’d been trying to figure out all day why their picturesque little town was falling apart.
“What do you think is wrong with my hand?” she asked.
Octavian frowned. “I don’t get a sense you’ve been poisoned in any way. The numbness may be just a reaction to contact with it. But I’m going to do a purge spell on you tonight to make absolutely certain.”
“No way,” Keomany said. “I’ve seen how those work. I’ll sleep for hours. This chaos effect is only going to get worse. You’ll need me.”
“You said two or three days. I’ll need you more in the morning than I do tonight.”
She flexed her hand. “It’s feeling a little better already.”
He could see she was lying. “We’ll talk about this when we check into the hotel. Now back to whatever that was. There’s nothing else you can tell me?”
“Remember the things that served the Tatterdemalion?” Keomany asked.
Octavian’s insides went cold. “Do you think it’s back?”
“No,” she said. “At least, I don’t think so. This doesn’t feel the same. The circumstances aren’t the same. Hawthorne isn’t cut off from the rest of the world. And the Tatterdemalion was about possession, not about chaos. This is not theft, it’s like . . . an eruption. An infection. These things are part of it, but I don’t know what they are. You’re the one who knows demons and all of that.”
“Okay,” he replied. “But are these things the source of the chaos, or just a symptom?”
Keomany considered it, then gave a small shrug. He didn’t blame her. Earthcraft didn’t really work that way, not even for Keomany, who was more in tune with nature than any earthwitch he had ever encountered. Gaea had touched her personally, had spoken to her directly, in some way that Octavian knew he would never understand. If Gaea really was nature itself, some spirit that embodied the entire planet . . . that was a level of power and spirituality that he had never encountered. In history, many cultures had believed that all life was connected, that the planet had a singular life force shared by all living things. What Keomany had sensed was a disruption in that life force, in nature. Something had corrupted a part of the order of the world. It might be beyond her craft to be able to pinpoint the nature of the bits of chaos they encountered. But they had to find the source of the chaos and put a stop to it.
Other books
In the Zone by Sierra Cartwright
Enticed (The Brazil Werewolf Series Book 3) by Amanda K. Dudley-Penn
Mrs. Stevens Hears the Mermaids Singing by May Sarton
A Twist of Fate by Christa Simpson
Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville
A Question of Love by Kirkwood, Gwen
Infuse: Oil, Spirit, Water by Eric Prum, Josh Williams
She Matters by Susanna Sonnenberg
Silver Nights With You (Love in the Sierras Book 1) by Belle, Sawyer
Secret Cravings by Kris Cook
